


Ride like the One Eyed Jack of Diamonds with the Devil Close Behind

by whispered_story



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cowboys, Episode: s06e18 Frontierland, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 20:01:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4759166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whispered_story/pseuds/whispered_story
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam indulges Dean's cowboy kink. [reposted, first posted on livejournal 1/10/2011]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ride like the One Eyed Jack of Diamonds with the Devil Close Behind

Dean looks at Sam with a wide, excited grin, eyes raking over Sam's body. It reminds Sam a little of a kid on Christmas – if you ignore the spark of obvious _lust_ in Dean's gaze – and that's the only reason why Sam doesn't take the shirt and hat right off again. Seeing that kind of excitement on Dean's face has become too rare these past few years.

It's sort of adorable even, though Sam would never say that aloud, and it goes a long way to make Sam feel a little better. It's just for one day anyway, he reminds himself as he gives Dean a suffering smile. He can play cowboys with Dean for one day and then that outfit is going straight into the trash.

"Looks good, Sammy," Dean says, voice full of approval. He steps closer, brushes his hand over Sam's shoulder with a slight smirk on his lips, and damn if it doesn't make Sam's stomach swoop.

Maybe, he thinks, the whole thing won't be so bad after all.

+

Sam feels almost bad for Dean as he watches him take the serape off with a huff, his mood instantly dropping. Considering how absolutely ridiculous it looked though, Sam isn't too broken up about it.

And then they walk into the saloon. Dean's expression falls, the frown deepening as he takes everything in. 

The women and the whiskey seem to be the last nail in the coffin.

"It's not what I expected," he grumbles as they leave the saloon, the heels of Dean's boots clacking loudly on the wooden floor. At least, Sam thinks with relief, they now have a lead on the Phoenix and where to find Colt, but the expression on Dean's face still tugs at Sam's heart. He's not exactly having a good time either, but the disappointment on Dean's face is even worse than the stupid clothes he's wearing, and how the whole town smells of horse and things Sam doesn't even want to think about. He suddenly just wishes Dean's giddy enthusiasm was back.

So Sam does the only thing he can think of. He pulls Dean into an alleyway, ducking behind houses until they're hidden from prying eyes. 

"Sam, what?" Dean asks, stumbling a little as Sam pushes him up against a wall. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like, cowboy?" Sam asks. He dips down to kiss Dean, hard and urgent.

"If anyone sees us," Dean protests against Sam's lips, but then he pushes up against Sam and kisses him back, teeth scraping against Sam's lips before he slides his tongue into Sam's mouth, eager and wet.

When Sam drops to his knees, Dean moans brokenly and Sam smirks.

+

Sam feels a smug sense of satisfaction when Dean's excitement returns after their little stint in the alley. He walks around with a spring in his step, not even too bothered when dinner that night turns out to be the worst food they've ever come across.

+

"You're lucky," Dean says as he sorts through the heap of golden jewelry Bobby gave them. Sam has no idea how much a horse costs in the nineteenth century, but he hopes that given he'll return it the next day they have enough to pay for it.

"Yeah, lucky," Sam agrees, voice flat.

Dean frowns at him. "You're not excited," he says, and it almost sounds accusing. "Why are you not excited?"

"Gee, I don't know, Dean. Maybe because I'm about to ride 20 miles to Colt's place and back. It's a stupid plan. I'll probably end up dead."

"You don't know how to ride a horse," Dean says, and Sam scowls at the surprise in Dean's voice.

"Of course not. Neither do you."

"I know how to ride a horse," Dean argues.

"Yeah? How?" Sam asks. "You've never been on a horse in your life."

"I have," Dean protests, pocketing a watch and a chain. 

"When?" Sam prods suspiciously.

"Some case a few years back. When you were at college," Dean says with a shrug. "And last year a couple of times."

Sam licks his lower lip. "Okay, fine, so you know how to ride," he gives in, deciding to drop it. Lisa's still a touchy subject, one Sam tries to stay clear off. 

"Damn straight," Dean says, the grin back on his face. He claps Sam onto his shoulder. "Come on, Sammy, let's go and find you a nice girl to ride on. Or boy."

"It's astonishing how you can make pretty much anything sound dirty," Sam says with a sigh. Dean gives him a disbelieving look, as he shoulders past Sam out of the tiny room above the saloon that they rented for the night. 

" _Riding_ , Sammy," he says with a shake of his head.

Sam is pretty sure he hears Dean mutter 'goody two shoes' as he shuts the door to their room behind them, and Sam's scowl deepens.

+

"That was pretty awesome, huh?" Dean asks, standing in the middle of their small room with a grin on his face, still decked out in full gear. Sam's long gotten rid of the hat and the heavy boots, but Dean's only taken off the duster – and only after much cajoling. He looks comfortable, like he isn't planning to change any time soon.

He makes a non-committal sound. He's not sure which part Dean thinks was awesome, really – the women that could have given them STDs they'd probably never heard of, the whole town full of dicks, the questionable hygiene and even more questionable food – but Dean looks happy, relaxed. At least they got what they wanted, and Sam feels more hopeful than he has in weeks. Now, all he wants though is a nice, hot shower and then to crawl into bed. There's thin layer of dirt covering most of Dean's clothes and skin, and Sam is pretty sure he doesn't look any better even though he hasn't looked in a mirror yet. But he feels grimy and sore all over from the hours he spent on that horse.

He reaches for his belt, and Dean makes a small, protesting noise. "Don't," he says. "Not yet."

"What?" Sam asks, confused. His confusion vanishes when he catches Dean's eyes, and his stomach swoops.

Dean closes the distance between them, wrapping his hand around Sam's wrist and tugging it away.

"If Bobby hears us," Sam warns, and Dean grins.

"He's down the hallway, he won't hear a thing. And you blew me in public in 1861, Sammy," Dean reminds him, and Sam can't really argue with that. 

Dean leans in, presses a kiss to Sam's neck and then noses along it. "You smell like horse," he murmurs.

"Yeah," Sam agrees, voice cracking. "Let me at least shower first."

"Hmm, no," Dean says and turns his head to kiss Sam's jaw. The movement makes his hat fall off with a soft thud, but Dean doesn't seem to care. He scrapes his teeth against Sam's skin and inhales deeply. "I like the way you smell."

"You have the weirdest kinks ever," Sam says, laughing, but he feels his own arousal building.

"You mind?" Dean asks, tilting his head back to look at Sam, and licks his lips. "Cause I was about to suggest that I ride you. Seeing as I didn't get to do any actual riding. But if you don't want to..."

"I never said I minded your kinks," Sam says with an amused huff and pulls Dean in for a kiss. Their tongues twist together, and Dean's hands start tugging at Sam's shirt before he slides them underneath, warm callused hands mapping out the skin of Sam's back.

He starts shuffling them back, and Sam makes a startled noise, lips still connected with Dean's, when his legs hit the edge of the bed. He tumbles down with one small push from Dean and Dean crawls on top of him, legs bracketing Sam's hips. 

"Sammy," Dean murmurs, voice low and sultry, and it goes straight to Sam's dick. He bucks up and cups Dean's head with both hands, fingers sliding into soft, short hair. They kiss, all teeth and tongues, bodies rocking together.

When Dean pulls away, Sam moans brokenly and he tries to chase Dean's lips before falling back onto the mattress with a huff. Dean sits back and looks down at him with bright eyes, lips puffy and bruised.

"Fuck, Dean," Sam hisses, and he futilely tries to tug Dean back down. 

"Nu-uh, Sammy," he says, shaking his head. He untucks Sam's shirt completely and pops open the buttons one by one, looking at Sam with a grin.

"Tease," Sam complains, breathing a little ragged. There're just the barest brushes of Dean's fingers against Sam's skin, and it's making him shudder, anticipation rising. "Dean, please."

"Hmm, what do you want?" Dean asks, undoing the last button and spreading the shirt aside. He leans down, kissing Sam's stomach, and Sam's breath hitches, the muscles in his stomach quivering as Dean trails wet kisses up Sam's body.

"Tell me, Sammy," he murmurs. "You want me get myself nice and wet for you? Ride you till you can't even remember your own name?"

Sam bites down on his lip, his heart beating rapidly in his chest, and he's blindingly hard. "Yeah. God, yeah," he breathes out.

Dean kisses him, palming the side of Sam's face with one hand, and plunges his tongue into Sam's mouth. He kisses him like his life depends on this kiss, and it's making Sam's head spin.

He makes a protesting noise when the kiss breaks, and Dean slides off him. His boots thud against the floor as he takes a few short steps to their duffle bags and Sam sits up on the bed to follow Dean's movements, running a hand through his hair. He catches the bottle of lube Dean tosses at him, and then watches with rapt attention as Dean strips out of the vest and shirt. 

Dean grins at him and then bends down to pull of his boots, before taking the holster off and pushing his jeans and boxer briefs down. Sam swallows thickly, eyes roaming over Dean's body as if it's the first time he's seeing him naked. 

"Come here," he says, and then frowns in confusion when Dean puts his boots back on and grabs the hat that's been lying forgotten on the floor. "What are you doing?"

"Told you I'd ride you," Dean says with a grin, and Sam's breath catches. His throat feels too dry suddenly and his dick is so hard it hurts.

"Jesus," he mutters.

Dean laughs, hard cock bobbing as he walks back to the bed. He puts one hand on Sam's chest and pushes him back down, placing the hat down next to Sam's head before straddling him. Sam sucks in a breath when Dean's weight settles on top of him, ass perfectly aligned with the bulge in Sam's jeans.

Dean grabs the bottle of lube, flips the cap open and pours some on his fingers. Sam watches him sit up a little, Dean's hand disappearing between his legs, before his eyes snap back up to Dean's face. He can tell when Dean pushes his first finger in by the way Dean's expression goes slack, his lips forming a perfect round 'o'. 

"You have no idea how fucking hot this is," Sam murmurs, and Dean's lips twitch into a grin. He rocks down on his finger, and Sam feels torn between watching the small movements Dean's hand is making as he pushes in an out of himself and Dean's face, a flush rising on his cheeks, little gasps escaping him as he opens himself up slowly.

"Oh god," Sam chokes out.

"Can't wait for you to replace my fingers," Dean pants. "For your cock to split me open, Sammy."

"Fuck, Dean, just hurry up," Sam groans, and bucks up, needing more friction.

Dean pulls his fingers out, looking at Sam with half hooded eyes. "Give me your hand," he says, and Sam does as he's told without thinking.

Dean pours lube onto Sam's fingers, slicking up Sam's forefinger before wrapping his hand around Sam's, aligning his own lubed fingers with Sam's. He brings their joint hands back to his entrance and pushes Sam's fingers into himself along with two of his own. He's tight and hot, already slick with lube, and Sam moans.

"Feels so good," Dean breathes out, biting down on his lower lip, and Sam wants him so much it hurts. He lets Dean control the movement of their hands, pushing in and out of his hole, slowly loosening him up.

"Okay," Dean finally breathes out. "Okay, I'm good."

He pulls their fingers out with a wet pop. He wastes no time unbuckling Sam's belt, the heavy buckle making a metallic clank. He opens Sam's jeans, and Sam lifts his hips, helping him push them down mid-thigh along with his boxer briefs.

Dean makes a satisfied noise, the grin back on his face as he reaches for Sam's cock. He gives him a few hard jerks, fingers still slick with lube. Sam thrusts up helplessly, moaning at Dean's sure, strong grip. 

Dean squirts more lube into his hand and slicks Sam's dick with it, cold and slippery. 

"Dean. Please," Sam begs, breathless, and Dean meets his eyes, looking both amused and aroused.

"Patience, Sammy," he says, wiping his hand on the bed sheets. He grabs his hat and places it on his head, winking at Sam, and Sam forces out a helpless laugh.

"You're unbelievable," he says, and then breaks off when Dean kneels above his cock, holding it in place, and lowers himself down slowly. Sam grabs Dean's thighs, hands splaying over strong muscles and fingers digging into flesh. 

If Dean felt tight around his fingers, this is like a vice grip and Sam wants to thrust into the heat, wants to bury himself inside Dean as deep as possible.

Dean makes a noise low in his throat when Sam is all the way inside him, ass clenching around Sam as he adjusts and Sam moans helplessly, but he holds still. 

He feels a thrill shoot down his spine as he takes in the picture Dean makes – legs splayed on either side of Sam's hips, feet in heavy cowboy boots, and the rest of him gloriously naked, skin glistening with a sheen of sweat. The brim of his hat his throwing shadows on his face, making his eyes look almost black.

"You're so goddamn big," Dean grunts, one hand resting heavily on Sam's chest.

"Never complained before," Sam replies, and he rolls up his hips experimentally.

It makes Dean moan and Sam repeats the motion. 

"Sam," Dean warns and tightens his legs around Sam's hips. 

He pushes himself up slowly at first, sinking back down with groan. Sam's whole body burns with pleasure. Dean feels so perfect around him, so good Sam wishes they could stay like this forever.

He can feel the muscles in Dean's thighs flex as he drives himself up and down on Sam, picking up speed. He rides Sam hard and fast, using his hand on Sam's chest to push himself up and Sam rocks up into him, tries to match his pace. 

Before long Dean's moans start getting louder, his movements more shaky, as he approaches his climax. He finishes with a low moan, eyes fluttering closed and perfect white teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

Sam grabs Dean's hips, and urges him to keep moving, thrusting up into Dean with sharp snaps of his hips. He feels heat pool in his stomach, his body tensing, and he comes with a startled gasp, bucking up into Dean and spilling into his tight heat.

Dean pulls off Sam with a wet sound and just slumps forward, making Sam grunt at the sudden weight dropping down on top of him. The movement knocks the hat off Dean's head and he presses a kiss to Sam's neck. Sam keeps one hand securely on Dean's thigh and wraps the other arm around him, running his hand down Dean's back lazily.

Dean's still wearing the boots, one heel digging into Sam's leg, and they're both sticky and sweaty, but Sam is too boneless, too blissed out, to move.

"Yeehaw," Dean mutters, words spoken against Sam's throat. Sam swears he can feel the smirk on Dean's lips and huffs out a laugh, feeling a whole new appreciation for Dean's cowboy kink.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from "Silver Stallion" by The Highwaymen.


End file.
